Wait, WHAT?
by Suededonym
Summary: I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" A tilt of the head was all the response Sylar got. "Yeah, I'm really going to regret this." Two-shot, CRACK!
1. Chapter 1

I have no idea where this would fit in the timeline... Have fun trying to figure it out! WARNING: Contains geese and semi-fluff.

* * *

Sylar didn't mind his houseguest. After all, the goose _had_ been there first. 

The previous sentence only makes sense because Sylar was lying low. In this case 'lying low' meant 'hiding out in an abandoned cabin in the woods'. 

Sylar didn't mind the goose in the least. He was a cleaner roommate than most, stayed in his own space and never ate Sylar's food out of the cooler. Unless, of course, Sylar tossed him scraps. The goose had a preference for bacon, something that amused him to no end. 

A few days into this odd comradeship, Sylar opened his duffel bag to find an egg. 

"Sorry." He said, though he wasn't sure why he was saying it. "I had no idea you were female." 

The goose honked, waddled past him, and sat on the egg. 

"Looks like I'm going without socks today." 

If it had been a person, Slyar would have killed them without hesitation. If that person had abilities, he would have sliced open their head and poked around to boot. But the goose was just a goose, and it_ had _been there first. He rationalized it by telling himself that one day (if he was around long enough) the goose would make a nice meal if nothing else. 

Sylar watched with fascination as the Goose cared for the egg. He always tossed it scraps now, as he irrationally thought that if the goose went out to get food the new life in the egg might be to fragile to handle the separation. 

When the hatching finally began, Sylar was there too. He watched the little fellow work his way out of the prison that had been his home for weeks. It took a painfully long time and he was sure that the gosling wouldn't make it. It made him feel almost... Well, it almost made him feel. 

In the end, he was proved wrong. 

"You're a fighter, aren't you?" He asked as the mother goose cleaned her offspring. 

Sylar was almost sure the pair would leave after that, but they didn't. Momma goose didn't let her baby eat any scraps though. 

One day while he contemplated moving on from this hideout, Sylar heard a shot. '_This is it! They found me.'_

But he was wrong then, too. 

Outside his cabin was a hairy, smelly man holding a smoking shotgun. Sylar could tell just by looking that this guy isn't after him. The guy was dressed in a bright orange jacket, torn jeans and was missing no less than six teeth. The teeth were visible because of the ear to ear grin the hick was sporting as he hoisted the dead goose up by it's neck. He starts at the sight of Sylar. 

"You." Sylar says. "You killed my goose." 

The guy look at the goose and then back at the extremely pissed off man in front of him. 

"Oops." He says, beginning to laugh. 

Before he could really work up even a chuckle, his head was turned around one hundred and eighty degrees from where it was supposed to be. 

"Oops." Sylar echoes. 

The noise attracted the attention of the baby goose, who had come waddling outside on unsteady legs to have a look at the situation. 

Unconscious of his own movement, Sylar stepped in front of the slain mamma goose. Baby goose cheeped up at him. An uncomfortable (for the man at least) moment passed. Baby goose cheeped again. 

"I should really kill you too." Sylar said, though he didn't know why he was saying it. "There's no way you could survive on your own like this. A mercy killing." 

Baby goose began nosing at the ground. Sylar sighed. The easiest thing in the world to do, and he couldn't do it. 

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" A tilt of the head was all the response Sylar got. "Yeah, I'm really going to regret this." 

He scooped up the gosling and went to gather his belongings.

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I have no idea where this came from, but the idea amuses me so there you have it.


	2. Chapter 2

I forgot before, but here is the disclaimer: I own nothing but a paper airplane that goes in circles. Heroes is not mine, nor is the celebrity named herein.

* * *

"We have a strict no pets and no smoking policy. Smoking is okay 'cause we'll just spray the place or whatever, but I don't want any animals in my building."

Sylar nodded in agreement with the landlord. The guy squinted at this easy acceptance of the rules.

"You don't have any pets do you?"

Sylar placed a hand over his jacket pocket to keep the goose from giving them away.

"Nope, no pets."

"Then the place is yours." He handed over the keys.

* * *

The goose spent a few days running around, for lack of a better metaphor, like a chicken with it's head cut off. Presumably it was looking for it's mother. After a while he seemed to accept that she was gone and adopted Sylar.

One night while the pair were watching some late night TV the goose pecked at the remote, apparently bored with the program. To Sylar's surprise, the channel changed to something he dimly remembered from his childhood; Bambi. On screen, Bambi was calling for his mother. Of course it had to be_ that_ part.

Sylar took the remote back.

"You don't need to see that."

* * *

The goose would need to learn to fly eventually. Sylar considered just releasing it into the wild with the next flock he saw, but he knew that the gosling was too domesticated now. He slept at the foot of Sylar's bed for crying out loud! (Sylar hadn't allowed it at first, but he found that he slept better that way.)

No, if the goose was going to learn to fly, Sylar would have to be the one to teach him. He considered his options. He had wanted an excuse to kill Nathan Petrelli for a while. This was as good a reason as anything.

For one very brief moment, Sylar entertained the idea of flying south for the winter.

* * *

The goose splashed happily in the tub, occasionally diving for the random objects Sylar tossed in. Their very own version of fetch.

He didn't hear the front door open, but he did hear the scrape of metal on metal that was a gun being pointed at his head. Sylar didn't bother turning around.

"You're interrupting bath time."

Sylar dried his hands on a towel and faced the intruder.

"Bath time is very important."

Noah Bennet didn't lower the gun and he didn't respond.

The goose hopped out of the bathtub and shook himself dry, following Sylar into the living room.

"What do you want, Bennet? I don't have all day."

Noah took a step forward. The goose moved in front of his surrogate parent, spreading his wings and hissing in a manner that was less threatening than it was adorable. All in all, he a few inches shy of Sylar's knees.

Sylar crouched down to pet the goose.

"It's okay, Ryan. You go have some lunch." He said.

The goose gave Noah a beady-eyed glare and waddled over to his food bowl.

"Ryan? You called that thing _Ryan_?" Matt Parkman stepped into the apartment, scoffing at the name.

Sylar gave him a blank look.

"He's a gosling." Sylar deadpanned.

"Ryan the gosling? Wait, Ryan Gosling? You know, in a twisted way that almost makes sense." Matt commented.

Sylar turned to the first intruder.

"The 'one of us, one of them' rule?"

Bennet shrugged.

"Old habbits."

Matt was still talking.

"Maybe we should introduce him to my turtle."

"And what would _my_ goose want with _your_ turtle?" Sylar questioned.

Noah spoke up.

"You know, if I didn't understand the context of that question..."

Sylar gave him a look that clearly said 'If you don't stop talking, I'm going to cut up your head like a jack o'lantern.'

Noah wisely shut up.

"We need your help." Matt offered. "There's someone new out there. He's killing people by tearing them apart and we haven't been able to find him-"

"So you want to send someone expendable to stop him." Sylar interpreted.

"Basically." This from Bennet.

Sylar looked around his little apartment, his eyes landing on Ryan. If he left, what would happen to the goose? Who would feed him? Who would spend bathtime with him? What if that horrible building superviser found him? That guy did not like animals.

Sylar sighed. He knew he had been expendable before, but not now. He had someone counting on him, even if it was just a goose.

"Fine." He said, coming to a decision. "I'll do it, but under one condition..."

* * *

Claire wished the phone would stop ringing. It was hard enough to pay attention her homework as things were. The words on the textbook page kept sliding in and out of focus. She sighed and gave up.

"Hello?"

"Claire-bear, it's dad."

"Is something wrong?"

"What? No, why?"

"You only ever call me if something is wrong."

"No I don't."

"Yes, you do." She argued.

"Nothing is wrong, persay, but I do need one small favor."

_'Here is where the problem comes in.'_ She thought.

"I need you to watch somethi- OW! Okay, okay, some_one_ for a few days."

"Huh?"

"Would you mind taking care of a goose for a few days?"

"What?"

"A goose. You don't have to if you don't want to."

"No no, that's not it! I mean, how does one take care of a goose? What do they eat?"

There was a whispered conversation on the other end of the line, then a faint 'Seriously?' from someone who wasn't her father.

After a moment, Noah came back on the phone.

"He likes bacon."

THE END .

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Thanks to my marvolous reviewers! You guys just brighten my day. I'm going to agree with SolandaRann; donning protective gear is probably a good idea if one is going to try hugging Slyar :-)

So, should I write an epilouge? The choice is up to you!


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Yay, my first negative review! To answer Gamebird; I have nothing against hunters , but the guy in this fictional story was a turd. There are geese by my house, so believe me, I know how much they poop. I know geese don't eat meat. People don't use telekinesis to slice each other's heads open in real life either.

(And who said 'Ryan' was actually male? Bwahahaha!)

Okay, on with the epilogue!

* * *

_A few days later....  
_

"what do you want?"

The knocking just continued.

Claire sighed and stretched before heaving herself out of the comfortable armchair.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Hold your horses already." She muttered before flinging the dorm room door open.

"You!" She slammed the door in his face and grabbed the sharp letter opener from her desk.

A faint 'Ouch' came from outside before the knocking resumed.

Something about the scenario was off. If Sylar really wanted in there was nothing she could do to stop him. He could blow the door right off the hinges. So why was he bothering to knock?

Claire took a deep breath and opened the door again. Sylar quirked an eyebrow at the implement in her hand.

"What were you going to do with that? You can't kill me."

Claire held her ground.

"No, but I could hurt you real bad."

Getting a better look at him, Slyar looked kind of tired and out of sorts. He didn't even raise his hands to defend himself.

"I have no doubt you could. However, I'm only here for -"

Sylar caught sight of the goose.

"- Ryan!"

Claire was confused. One second Sylar had been standing in her doorway, the next he was on his knees, arms flung wide to embrace the ball of fuzz and feathers barreling towards him. It was like watching a lightbulb get flicked on. He was positively beaming.

"Did you get bigger?" He asked as the gosling rubbed it's head against his arm.

"Uhhh, what just happened?" Claire relaxed her grip on the temporary weapon.

Sylar looked up at her.

"Did he give you much trouble?"

Claire blinked rapidly, trying to process the question. It only took her a second.

"Let's just say its a good thing I have a healing ability. Otherwise I would have a lot of explaining to do about random goose bites."

Ryan nipped at Sylar's fingers affectionately.

"Want to go find a pond and chase ducks?"

He got broken trumpet sort of sound in response.

"Of course you do." Sylar paused and seemingly remembered that Claire was there. "You can come along...if you want."

She was floored. This was Sylar, the guy who had _killed _people, who had threatened her family, who had done more horrible things than she could even begin to wrap her head around. _This _was the guy asking her if she wanted to go to the park.

"Uh, I have a class to get ready for, actually."

The light in his face dimmed. _Slam!_ went the mask and his emotions were hid again.

"Of course."

He stood and stuck his hands in his pockets, like a kid caught doing something he knew he wasn't supposed to.

"Right, well. Thank you for looking after him."

The pair began to walk away.

"Wait!"

Sylar turned back to look.

"Maybe later, if you're still around?" She asked, though she didn't know why she did.

For one split second he wavered. Then a infinitesimally small smile touched his eyes.

"I'd like that."

Claire watched them go, Ryan bobbing and weaving around Sylar's legs, and she had to wonder: Just who had domesticated who?

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That's all, folks! Thank you all for your input and insight, you guys are the best. Arrivederci!


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